


The Verses of Shartan

by mothwrist



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Elves, F/M, Female Character of Color, Mage!Andraste, Male Character of Color, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrist/pseuds/mothwrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shartan was an elven slave who joined forces with Andraste to fight the Tevinter Imperium. He loved her fierceness, her desire for justice and freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Verses of Shartan

**Author's Note:**

> At Shartan's word, the sky  
> Grew black with arrows.  
> At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords  
> Rang from their sheaths,  
> A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming:  
> Those who had been slaves were now free.
> 
> -Shartan 10:1, Dissonant Verse

1.

The first time Shartan heard Andraste’s name, it was spoken in laughter. The magisters spoke of her in dismissive tones, but slaves listen. Shartan listened. He heard them dismiss the upstart Alamarri warlords come to threaten the mighty Imperium, and he heard that the Imperium had an enemy, one that was here. He waited. The magisters thought they could be put down swiftly. Shartan hoped they were wrong. After Andraste and Maferath took their first city from the Tevinter’s grasp, the laughter ceased. Shartan plotted. Seeds of rebellion that had long sat in his heart grew shoots, nourished by his newfound hope. Shartan made his plans.

2.

She had heard stories about him before she met him. In the weeks after their armies landed on Tevinter soil, they heard rumors of an uprising amoung the elven slaves. As the Alamarri crusaded through the land, they fought magisters, and spoke with the people. His name was spoken by those they came across with hope, or with fear. Andraste had come back to free the slaves, but she learned they were already freeing themselves, and Shartan was leading them with cunning and skill.

3.

The Alamarri were camped one night in the shadow of mountains, when a lone figure came to them, hooded and cloaked. He was able to sneak past the outer guards, but was caught outside the tent belonging to the Alamarri leaders. Even with her guard’s swords levelled at him, he did not flinch, but only said he wished to speak with Andraste. She came, and bade them to let him speak. He saw a woman older than he had thought, with grey in her black curls, and brown eyes that watched him with curiosity.

‘Am I adressing Andraste of the Alamarri? The woman touched by a god?’

Andraste raised her eyebrows. ‘I am Andraste, the Maker’s chosen. But who are you?’

His dark eyes did not leave hers as he swept his hand up, throwing his hood back, revealing his shaven head and pointed ears. ‘I am Shartan,’ he said.

Andraste drew in a breath. ‘Then we have much to talk about,’ she said. Behind her, Maferath frowned.

4.

It was at Valarian Fields that their alliance first bore fruit. Their twin forces pinned the helpless Tevinters. Shartan’s elves filled the sky with their arrows, and Andraste’s armies unsheathed their swords to run shrieking at the magisters. The screams of humans and elves filled the air. Andraste on the battlefield was a force of nature, screaming the Maker’s name, lightning raining from her outstretched hand. In the other she held the Maker’s Sword aloft, and threw down fireballs upon the fleeing Tevinters like an angry god. Shartan fought in more earthly ways, his sword flashing in the air, cleaving through magisters. They met in the middle of the field, and her fierce smile at their victory matched his own.

5.

After the battle, Shartan looked for her amoung the revellers, and could not find her. Maferath was drinking with his captains in his tent, and he clapped Shartan on the back, shouting ‘Not bad, elf!’ and laughing. Shartan forced a smile, his eyes seeking Andraste. Outside, he heard singing on the wind, and following it he found her kneeling by their dead, her song lamenting those who had fallen for their cause. She looked up at his approach, but did not speak. He put his hand on her shoulder, reading the regret in her eyes.

‘They died free people,’ he said, and Andraste nodded.

6.

One day she came to him, holding a bundle wrapped in red cloth. ‘I have a present for you,’ she said. He did not speak, but unwrapped it with reverent hands. Inside was a sword, long and shining, gold lines embedded in its hilt. He stared down at it, wordless. ‘I have enchanted it to protect you, to make your blows certain to strike all who oppose us.’ Shartan still did not speak, but looked up at her with wonder in his eyes. Words crowded in his mouth, telling her it was the first time in years that anyone had given him a gift, that it was beautiful, that she was beautiful.

‘Thank you,’ was all he said, but she understood.

7.

She felt his eyes upon her in their war councils, but when she looked back at him he would turn his eyes away, and she would be left studying the bronze skin of his cheek, the dark purples of his downcast eyelids. She wondered whether he would still look away if Maferath was not standing at her side.

8.

She went to him that night, hooded and cloaked. Her heart beat like war drums inside her chest. She entered his tent, finding him alone. His mouth fell open when she drew back her hood.

‘Why do you turn away, when I catch you watching me?’ she asked.

He paused, and looked away from her. ‘I do not wish to presume upon your feelings, or to cause you pain,’ he said quietly.

She came closer to him, and he looked at her at last, his eyes drinking her in. He saw standing before him not the fierce war-goddess, but the woman, with a woman’s desires. ‘But what of your feelings?’ she asked. ‘What do you want?’ She reached out for his arm but stopped short of touching him, waiting for his answer. Her hand trembled in the air, and she imagined she could feel the heat of his skin radiating out.

He paused, his eyes searching her face. ‘You,’ he said at last, and kissed her. They fell against each other, pressing themselves together, as close as possible. They stumbled backward toward his bed. Andraste’s hands found the straps holding his armour.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

‘Yes, oh yes,’ he said against her skin, before drawing back. ‘Are you?’

‘Completely,’ she said, and undid the straps.

8.

‘What will you do, if you win this war?’ he asked her once, as his hands stroked over the dark gold of her skin.

‘Rebuild,’ she answered. ‘We will make a country where no one is enslaved, where those who have been wronged by the Tevinters can heal, and live free.’

‘And what of your Maker, is that what he wishes too?’

‘Yes, it is why he empowers me, to see our dream fulfilled.’

‘And what of elves, will we have a place in your new country too? You are sympathetic to our cause, but I fear all humans do not agree.’

She brought her face close to his, and looked into his eyes. ‘Do not fear, Shartan. I will make sure that your people are remembered for their part in this. I will talk with Maferath, with Havard, with Cathaire. I will make them promise to see it done, even if I should fall.’

He shook his head ‘Live, and we will both see this new land.’

She smiled. ‘It is all I want.’ Shartan smiled too, longing for the peace he saw in her eyes.

9.

They were riding together one morning, with only a small complement of soldiers. Their route was scarcely travelled, and only Maferath knew of their movements. Andraste wondered, sometimes, if he suspected their relationship, but always reassured herself of their discretion, of Maferath’s loyalty. The first Tevinter arrow took one of her warriors in the throat. Shartan shouted, and Imperial soldiers poured from the woods. Andraste summoned her lightning, her fire, but always more came at them. Their soldiers were struck down around them as Shartan screamed and threw himself against them, his sword flashing in the air. Back to back, they gasped for breath, bodies littered across the road.

‘Run for the hills,’ he said, ‘I will keep them occupied.’

‘Not for long,’ she said. ‘It is me they want. There are too many.’

He grunted, and gripped her hand in his, pressing a fierce kiss upon her lips before throwing himself in front of her her, shouting ‘Run anyway! Live!’

She screamed, and threw lightning outward after him, hitting the soldiers. Still more were crowding up the road. A Tevinter sword took him in the side but he was still fighting, and she expended more power than she had ever used before trying to reach him, to heal him. It was not enough. He fell sideways, and the last thing he saw as his eyes dimmed was the Tevinters bearing her away.

10.

Her Chantry priests still sing of her, and the religion bearing her name has spread across the continent. People in several different places claim she was born there. Her name is never far from someone’s lips. Even flowers are named for her, and little elven children pick Andraste’s Grace, and twine it into chains in each others hair in the alienages. Shartan’s name lies untouched in the few books that escaped fires, gathering dust.

**Author's Note:**

> It is heresy today to speak of Shartan, an elven slave that rose up against his Tevinter masters to help Andraste's barbarian invasion. It seems we don't wish to speak of elven heroes or the role they played in Andraste's war any more than we wish to speak of barbarians or the bloody death toll that accompanied the war. With each passing age, heroes like Shartan become more of a fable, but some of us will always know the truth.
> 
> —From The Dissonant Verses by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar, 9:25 Dragon


End file.
